


See what I see

by Misted_Reality



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Connor fans unite!, F/M, Homestead, I hated the end of sequence 12, Love, Them Feels, Ubisoft didn't make him an ending so i'm making one., What happens after the game, are you?, homesteaders, ridiculous tags, should be canon, still crying, still getting over it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-20 01:31:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2410106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misted_Reality/pseuds/Misted_Reality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>March 1785 - You, Connor, Lance, Patience, Lyle, Ellen and Dave are the only single people left on the homestead.</p><p>Well, you're certainly not going to be with Lyle, Lance or Dave.</p><p>Two-shot, was going to be a one-shot but i got carried away. Might make it a three shot, add a lemon chapter in there, push it up to explicit. lemons are always good. There is not enough Connor love and I need my daily dose. So do you guys. Hope you like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	See what I see

March 1785, Davenport Homestead.

Spring had sprung on Davenport Homestead, the snow had melted and flowers had started to bloom. The trees were growing their leaves for the forthcoming year and the homesteaders were becoming even more of a tight-knit community. With new arrivals came new opportunities for the homestead to flourish in different ways, and for new friends to be made.

You had arrived about a year prior, in about February of 84’. You had been journeying from inn to inn before your arrival in Davenport Homestead. Your mother and father had a local tavern in Boston, called the Silver Sword Lodge, in which you worked as a barmaid; it was thriving with life and one of the local hotspots in Boston, until November of 83’ where things had started to go downhill with the business and its profits. There were many taverns in Boston, with new ones opening and closing every month.  You knew it was inevitable.

What you hadn’t expected though, was your mother and father to make a deal with one of the local rich men in town to take your hand in marriage; without your consent, obviously.

“…It’s for the business, (Name), you must understand that.” Your father said, on the day you had found out about their plan.

“So you would rather have me taken away by some stranger, who by the way could have untrue intentions. Just so our business can prosper? I may have expected it from other parents, but my own? I mean, how could you?” You paced around the room. “I am not going through with this, I have a say in this. You knew there would be a time when our business would falter, could you not have instead saved up some of our earnings and not gave it all to the British with their taxes before their retreat? We would have plenty of money to rent a place, had you not been so foolish!”

In the next second you were on the floor, hissing as you touched your cheek. He had slapped you, _your own father_.

“Would you rather have us homeless? Stop being so selfish, child! Without our business, we are nothing! Would you rather be forced into the brothel? Robbed of your virtue? Think twice before calling us unruly parents, for we are kinder than most”

You snorted at this one, picking yourself up as your mother watched sombrely in the background; she would never disobey father, their marriage seemed more like a contract than true, honest love; and you were not going to become them.

“You call yourself kind, but would a kind father hit his own daughter? While her mother watched? Doing nothing to stop it? Would a kind father, wed of his daughter and her own happiness, just for the wellbeing of his business? If you truly cared, it would not matter where we ended up, as long as we were together! You were my father once, but you have been corrupted by greed, glory, and so many more vile traits I do not even want to list them off. What you do not realize father, is that I make the business, without me, you are nothing. I will not stand by and be played as some puppet any longer.

You had prepared to leave for some time; even before the business was faltering. Your parents used to love. But people can change, your father had become greedy and foolish, and your mother, a servant, obeying fathers every command and belittled you at every chance she got; but no longer. You had already packed your things, so you went into your bedroom, put on your coat, picked up your belongings; of course, your father was blocking the exit, but you weren’t leaving that way anyway.

You opened the window, muttered your goodbyes for the last time, and jumped out and down onto the ground, much of the astonishment of the people. Your father shouted cursed at you loudly as you ran down the street and into the unknown.

Of course, that sounds a bit over the top, but you had skills other than bartending. You were a good free-runner; running across the rooftops, climbing trees and buildings in your childhood with ease, thanks to the teachings from your uncle, god rest his soul.

Your uncle was a skilled hunter, free-runner, fighter, basically anything in that area he was skilled at. And he managed to teach you some things before he was killed in 1770, during the Boston Massacre.

He said, that before he died, he would one day tell you of the creed that helped him earn those skills, and that if you chose to, you could help rebuild it to what it once was; what that meant, or what that organisation was, you never knew. He was very reserved, and would usually stay on his property, where most of his training gear was; it was like he was in hiding. But from what, exactly?

The only thing you had in his memory was two blades, but they were hidden in a bracer in your arm, hence the reason they were called “Hidden Blades” he said that only people of the creed could possess them. They would come in handy, now that you were in this predicament.

 _Anyway_ , you were running into the unknown.

You had enough supplies to last you a few days, if used wisely. You would have hopefully found a place by then. And you hoped it would be far away from the Silver Sword Lodge and its inhabitants.

So you travelled from inn to inn, with the pounds you had kept from tips for your good bartending services; or that you hoped, were for good bartending services.

You eventually made it to the frontier, you lived there for a while. Where you honed your skills and put them to good use. You crafted yourself a bow and some arrows, for hunting. You also had your blades, if attacked. You hoped it would not come to that predicament.

But, luck was not on your side. Or was it?

You met him, Connor, one night in the beginning of February. You had just lit a fire, which must have caught the attention of some hunters, who did not look friendly. You silently cursed to yourself.

One of the men, who smelled strongly of bodily odour and a tinge of liquor, looked at you like he had just won a prize “Eh boys, look who we have ‘ere? What’s a good lookin’ bird like you doin’ out in these woods?” he said, his cockney accent and intoxication obscenely obvious.

“Hunting, living. What’s it to you?” You retort back at him, clearly bored of this charade.

The men next to him chuckled darkly;  disgust poured through you; you already knew what they had planned for you. Of course, you weren’t stupid. You hoped they had enough liquor so you could easily fight them off, as you were a bit rusty from the training your uncle gave you.

“A pre’y woman like you shouldn’ be out in these woods, you’d be gettin yourself killed” he replied. You cursed him inwardly; stereotypical woman, he thought. Woman can’t defend herself, they thought, what a perfect opportunity to take advantage of her. You can’t wait to prove them wrong. Well, you hoped you could.

He was getting closer to you now. His breath stank strongly of liquor and bile which made you cringe and cover your nose with your finger. “How about you com with us to our encampment, we have pleny’ of food and wa’er. We’d probably be doing you a favour, seein’ as you don’t have much ere” he gestured toward your fire. Oh how you wanted to give him a swift kick in his groin.

“No thanks” You reply “I’m perfectly happy where I am, thank you for your kind offer” you say almost sarcastically, but they are too pissed to even realize it.

His eyes had turned dark now; as you had not given him the response he had wanted. He grabbed your arm with a roughly; not enough to leave a bruise but it would certainly leave a slight red mark “It wasn’t a choice” his men had brought out weapons now; as if that was a threat.

You chuckled, before giving him the swift kick in the groin that he deserved. He doubled over, and you unlocked the mechanism that unleashed the blade of your right arm, stabbing him in the abdomen before he would try to overtake you. He fell to the ground.

The men looked shocked; they realized their mistake, but continued on anyway; men of this day, always underestimating a woman’s strength.

One of the men; who had a scar above his left eye, aimed his flintlock at you. You quickly disarmed him and shot him in the head, blood spraying onto your clothing and face. The other man came swiftly behind you; you grabbed him and somehow managed to flip him over and into the fire, setting him alight. The man screamed, running down the hill. He was trying to get to the nearest stream to put out the flames, but it was too late; he had already sustained enough damage. You finished him off, taking an arrow from your quiver and shooting him in the back as he ran; a bit rusty, but you will improve, hopefully.

Suddenly, someone grabbed you from behind, making you drop your bow and arrow, then pushing you against the nearest tree, flintlock to your head; it was the man who you had stabbed earlier; how was he still alive?

“You fuckin’ bitch” he said, pain clear evident in his voice, not from the loss of his friends though, but from the wound you had inflicted to his lower abdomen; he would bleed out soon enough. His hands are occupied by holding his gun and pinning you to a tree. You hoped he would, anyway. More men had joined him now; from his _“encampment”_ they must have heard the commotion. Using your hidden blades would be useless.

“You are a pre’y li’l thing, I didn want it to come to this, you could have had a more enjoyable time, at our _encampment_ ” he whispers, well tries to, into your ear. His hot breath giving you a very unsatisfying feeling that makes you want to rip his mouth off and chuck it into the remnants of the fire.

“I very much doubt that” You reply “It’s a shame, you men can’t get a woman sober or drunk” humour was always your back-up plan.

“We get _plenty_ of women”

“What, Willingly? I doubt that. Your overgrown facial hair and lack of vowels reminds me of a pack of wolves. Cubs more like, you can’t even stand on your own two feet. How do expect to take advantage of a woman? Fall into her?”

You hear a masculine snort, and it’s not his or yours, or the four men behind him; it’s someone else’s. Someone’s watching, he (unless it was a masculine voiced woman) must have found you funny. The drunken men didn’t hear him, obviously. You hear a rustling in the trees, he was in the trees. Was he coming to help? You hoped so, unless he was a sober man who wanted to take advantage of you and your good humour, then you were in trouble.

“ _You take that back_ ”

“Why should I? It’s true”

Maybe the man in the trees knew you could hear him, you did attempt to look around after all, but all you could see was the leaves shuffle, and darkness. The fire would dim soon if you did not put another piece of firewood in. Not like that was the most important thing to be thinking about when there was a flintlock to your head.

The men walk a bit further toward you now, and the rustling from the trees is closer, above you in fact. Was he above you? You couldn’t see. Was he going to help you? You thought, or was he going to watch as you were brutally murdered?

Option one, you hoped.

The four men stopped and looked up, noticing the man in the tree’s presence. The man holding you to the tree though did not. He looked like he was debating on whether to kill you or still take you back to his _encampment_ , he’ll be dead soon, hopefully.

The pressure was lifted from your neck when the man jumped down from the tree’s and started attacking the men with his tomahawk, his face obscured by his hood, he wore robes similar to the ones your uncle used to wear. You just watched, debating on whether to take your things a venture onwards or to wait and thank the man. You hoped he had good intentions; he was technically saving you, after all. Thinking back on it now, you don’t regret staying one bit.

Once he had finished them off, he turned to you, his robes were slightly covered in blood but you didn’t care, it was when you looked at his face; the look of genuine concern was within his features, within his eyes as well, back then you’d admit when you were a bit entranced by him. You were surprised, as it was a feeling you’d never really felt before.

Then, he spoke.

“Are you alright?” he asked you, his voice was full of concern, like his features. He was quite a bit taller than you, and from what was left of the fire burning he looked like he was a native, but you would have to see in natural light. Which you did, obviously. You liked his voice, was your next thought, _he had a nice voice._

You nodded to him “Yes, thank you. I appreciate the help greatly. I was expecting this to happen sooner or later during my venture in these woods.”

You noticed the insignia on the red sash wrapped around his waist. The creed your uncle talked about had that symbol. Was he from that creed? Maybe you could trust him.

“The blades, where did you get them?” he asked you. He must have been here longer than you thought.

“My uncle gave them to me when I was Twelve, before he died. It’s the only thing I have left in his memory, these blades. He said only people of his creed possessed them, though he never told me fully. He died before he could tell me. You wear the symbol, on your belt.” You point at the insignia on his belt, he seems to understand now. He extracts one of his blades; he had the same kind.

“These blades are possessed only by Assassins”

“Assassins?”

“Yes, your uncle must have been one of them. Though Achilles never mentioned any Assassins that escaped the purge in 1763. Maybe your uncle was one of them”

To him, you probably looked completely confused, as you had one of those “what the hell are you on about” faces on, so he changed the subject for the time being. After you had picked up your belongings, you both started walking through the dark woods, the moon being the only source of light as the fire and bodies were long forgotten.

“You’re a skilled fighter” he complimented “Do you not have a home?”

“Thank you” you responded “And I did. But my parents placed me in a predicament which chose me to leave my home and find some place elsewhere.”

“And that was?” He asked, you took a bit of time with responding “It is alright, you do not have to tell me if you do not wish to.”

You looked at him, you were pretty sure that he was genuine, and did not want to harm you. If he was a part of your uncle’s creed, you could trust him.

“No, it’s alright” you said and began to tell him your story.

By the time you had told him everything, you had gotten to his encampment and he had kindly offered you food and water, and what seemed to be shelter for the night. His hood was off so you could see more of his face. He was clean shaven at the sides with a strip of hair going down the middle of his head and tied into a ponytail at the back, like a Mohawk. He listened to your every word as you told your story, and you were grateful; for it was the first time in a while that someone had actually listened to you.

“It seems as if you have had a long journey” he told you as you drank your water. You chuckled, placing the cup onto the ground next to you.

“You could say that”

He smirked at that, the fire in between you highlighting his features.

He looked at you like he had forgotten something.

“What is your name?”

“(Name), what’s yours?”

“Connor” he replied, to which you gave him a questioning glance. You doubt that was his real name, if he was a native.

“What’s your real name?” you ask, he smirks.

“Ratonhnhaké:ton, but I am known by Connor by the colonists.”

“Oh, alright. Well, It is a pleasure to meet you Ratonhnhaké:ton. Thank you for your kindness, I would be dead without your help”

“It is no problem. Do not underestimate yourself; the skills your uncle has taught you have allowed you to survive in these woods like no other. You showed no fear when fighting those men, even tried to add light into the situation as well. I have a proposition.”

“And what’s that?” you enquire.

“I live not far from here, on a homestead with many different artisans and inn which could use your services as a bartender.” He said. “If you would like, you can travel with me back to the homestead and work at the inn. And if you would like to continue your training from your uncle, I will gladly train you.”

You pondered about his proposition for the moment; it seems too good to be true. There is a possibility he could be lying. Of course you wouldn’t say that now, a year later. But it’s better a risk as any.

“How do I know you’re not lying?” You ask him. It seems as if he hasn’t got that sort of response before, maybe people gladly take the offer without knowing the repercussions.

“I cannot prove it to you if you do not come with me” he responds, taking a stick and prodding at the fire “You do not have to come if you do not wish to, I understand if you are sceptic. But I can promise you food and shelter and many people who will be grateful of your services.”

You look into his eyes; as they say, the eyes are the windows to the soul. You get lost in them for a moment, the fire given them a near golden colour. He looks certain; usually someone who lies would not be able to look a person in the eye.

“Alright, I accept” You said; he looked genuinely pleased.

“Alright, we will set off in the morning” he said, “It is too late to travel now. You should get some rest”

You nodded “What about you? Don’t you sleep?”

That’s when you noticed the slight lines under his eyes, which were hard to see with only the fire between you; he must have trouble sleeping, but what for?

“I will keep watch for any more intruders, you rest. If there is any trouble, I will let you know”

He decided to avoid the question then.

You nodded, and took the blanket from your supplies, covering it over yourself, before lying down and closing your eyes.

You had kept your hidden blades on though; just in case.

There were no intruders that night, not that you knew of. You both travelled to the homestead and how right he was. The sight was surely beautiful, and the people were lovely, you had grown close to them in the 12 months you had been here. Connor even more so.

Some nights, you worked behind the bar with Corrine and Oliver. And since you had been there The Mile’s End was always packed with people. Probably due to the fact there was more staff and the ale arrived quicker than before.

Connor trained you, along with a young girl named Patience Gibbs, who had arrived a few months after your arrival on the homestead with a woman called Aveline de Grandpré. Connor had sent Aveline to retrieve Patience after a failed attempt to try and get her to join the brotherhood; Aveline was known well among the slaves, and Patience, being a former slave, knew of her and accepted her offer for Connor’s training. You liked her; her attitude reminded you a lot of yourself.

Aveline left and Connor trained you both, eventually welcoming you into the Assassin Brotherhood. He introduced you to the rest of the assassins in the area; Stephane Chapeau, Clipper Wilkinson, Dobby Carter, Jacob Zenger, Duncan little and Jamie Colley.

You haven’t seen your parents since the incident, and doubt you will for some time; unless you have a mission in Boston. But they may not be living in Boston now, who knows. You’ve cut all ties with them after all.

Connor has sent his assassin’s to watch over different colonies and find possible recruits in order to rebuild the brotherhood to what it once was. And hopefully stop the Templars from taking them over, if there are any left in the colonies.

Everyone at the homestead was under the suspicion that you and Connor were an item, to which you both denied.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you” Corrine said one day. You and all the female homesteaders had occasional get together where you would chat and discuss certain things.

This was usually the topic.

“We’re just friends” I reply to the chuckle of the others.

“I us’d to always say that about me n’ Terry” Replied Diana “Nae look at us, married with two boys and I love him to pieces, you know. Ignoring thae spats with Godfrey for the moment.”

We all laughed.

“Yeah, well I mean it. We’re just friends.”

Ellen piped up “Connor looks at you like you’re his world; he adores you. And there is no doubt in my mind that you feel the same. The girls agree with me.”

You smirk “Like you and Dave?”

Ellen blushes “There is nothing going on with me and Dave.”

Prudence laughs “Just like (Name), in denial. You girls need to take action, your men aren’t going to do it for you, they look completely clueless when it comes to that aspect; Connor especially”

Myriam laughs “Yes, especially Connor. But to be fair; I don’t think he has ever courted a woman before.”

“He was waiting for that special woman to come along, that’s why” Catherine nudges you gently, and you scoff.

“You two be’er get tagether soon, or we’ll make it ‘appen” Says Diana, chuckling “All o ‘us, not just us girls.”

You swallow thickly.

“Well, good luck with that” you laugh “I’m going to the tavern, I presume I’ll see some of you later?”

They all nod and wave, saying their goodbyes and continuing on with their gossip. As you made your way over to the tavern, you laughed to yourself; those ladies live on gossip.

Connor was too busy to pursue a relationship, and you understood that. He did not have the time, and it seemed, with you joining the brotherhood, neither would you. One day; perhaps, you hope. Unless someone else got to him first.

And was he even interested? You didn’t see what the girls saw, but then again it’s different when your viewing on something. You haven’t been in a proper relationship before; your time at the Silver Sword Lodge had put an end to any relationships; especially with your controlling father. Your only escape was your uncle when you went to visit him before he died. Besides; there wasn’t anyone interesting in the tavern, a few lookers, but always drunk on ale with no conversation coming out of them whatsoever, just groans or slurs; reminded you of a whale.

Connor is very attractive; with a body to die for and a loving personality that is only shown with his friends. He’s humble of course; he did not see what you saw. And from what the girls had told you, you did not see what he saw, if it was true.

Over the year his hair had grown back and he had proceeded to tie it up, leaving a braid on the left side of his face. Apparently that was what his hair was like before, according to the homesteaders.

He is busy training with Prudence at the moment, for she was still a trainee. Turning the doorknob, You made your way into The Mile’s End and greeted Oliver, Norris, Godfrey and Terry (Terry and Godfrey were always in the Tavern.) you leaned onto the counter as Oliver passed you an ale.

As you took a sip, you thought about Connor; after all you went through, from your life in Boston to your life Davenport homestead, had you finally found him? And did what you feel for him, or when you were around him resemble love?

Are you in love him? Was he in love with you?

_“Connor looks at you like you’re his world; he adores you. And there is no doubt in my mind that you feel the same.”_

“We’ll just have to see” you thought

 _We’ll just have to see_.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hoped you enjoyed the first of the two or three shot I have been debating to make. I've been debating on this for a while, trying to come up with ideas a long with struggling with homework and school. Then today I just started writing and didn't stop. Hope it's a good back story and I've kept the characters personalities correct, especially Connors. I'm replaying the game at the moment after reading forsaken. If you haven't read it you should read it, it's a great book. Let me know if your interested in any other AC Character one shots. I can't promise a story at the moment as I don't know if ill end up finishing it, maybe after I've finished school.
> 
> Also, Comment! let me know what you thought, it helps a lot.


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